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Gujaratis love fried things. Full stop! We love them so much that we even start the day with them. Specifically, with pooris, which are our traditional breakfasts. We never feel guilty or bad about reaching out for our fried snacks either, which includes ganthia (fried mini pappad) and a variety of mixtures (popularly known as chevdo, which vary from region to region and can be sweet, tangy, or spicy). Ganthia and jalebi, a deep-fried sweet, are also popular as breakfast. It will come as no surprise that pooris – discs of dough which fluff up in hot oil – are another such staple. They also come in several variations. Crunchy, crispy-salty (to be had with tea), and soft. Today, I’ll be sharing how to make the soft version… with another typically Gujju twist.

That twist, of course, is sweetness. As you’d already have known from the long list of traditional desserts on this blog, Gujaratis love sweetness just as much or even more than we love fried things. The perfect combination of these two cravings is the kheer poori, which in simplest terms is a poori eaten with kheer, a milk-based sweet.

When I was growing up, cakes were not yet popular in Chennai, and this kheer poori was often a birthday treat that my mother made for us. Especially for me, because I just loved that combination of tastes and temperature: the saltiness and heat of the poori, the sweetness and coolness of the kheer. It was also something made for special occasions, which as you know are usually observed with an offering of sweets to the divine, as well as for weddings and other celebrations.

The frying of pooris is an art, and being a Gujarati, size does matter – in this case, the smaller, the more delicate and dainty, the better. My mother was strict about this. She always said that if a poori did not puff, if it did not bloom in the oil, then the person frying it just did not know how to make a good poori! Pooris are generally eaten hot and fresh. Not only did my mother tend not to serve unpuffed pooris at the table, but if a poori became flattened by the time it reached my plate, I would absolutely refuse to eat it as a child! Perhaps that’s why I became so keen on, and so good at, frying perfectly puffed ones later.

I’ve shared two kheer recipes earlier, and have linked to them below. So this recipe teaches you only how to make pooris – a standard in almost any Indian kitchen, but hard to perfect, as many will tell you! Alternately, you can eat your pooris with any accompaniment of your choice. Once you have the basics in place, it’s fun to experiment. If you don’t have a sweet tooth, you can always have pooris with a potato curry (like the Gujarati bataka-nu-shaak) or another accompaniment, like a pickle. Perhaps because it is so simple, a poori is also an incredibly versatile dish. And yes, you WILL need (and want) more than one, for sure!

 

 

Poori (With Kheer)

(Yield: 15-20 small pooris)

Ingredients

1 cup whole wheat flour

¼ teaspoon turmeric powder

½ teaspoon cumin powder

½ teaspoon chilli powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon oil

¼ cup water

2 cups oil for deep frying

 

As I said above, I’ve provided two kheer recipes earlier, and you can pick which one to make based on seasonal availability and individual taste. Whether you go with the sitaphal kheer, the rose-coconut kheer, or your own variation, you should have this prepared and refrigerated first.

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this with you before, but in most Gujarati homes, we regularly make fresh batches of green chilli and ginger paste. This keeps for two or three days, and we use a dollop of it in lieu of red chilli powder. If you prefer this taste, and have it on hand, you can substitute the red chilli powder in the ingredients for the same. I have fond memories of our helper when I was growing up using the stone rubi-kallu to make the paste. We rarely used the blender, and I can’t even remember if we had one at the time. Now, it’s such a necessity.

In a bowl, add all the ingredients (except the oil for deep frying) and make a dough. The dough should be equivalent to a tight smooth ball.

Now, divide the dough into round small balls ready for rolling out. Roll them out evenly shaped as far as possible. They should also have the same, even thickness. Take care that they are not too thin, as they will be unable to puff up if so. Did you get rolling practice when you made these rotis? If you did, it may be worth noting that this dough is similar to thepla dough, except we don’t add yoghurt.

Prepare the oil by heating it. You can check the heat by dropping a pin size drop of dough. If it gathers bubbles, then it means the oil is ready. On a high flame, drop the pooris in one at a time. Wait for each one to rise up, and then flip it over. You need to flip it over just once. The secret to the puffiness lies in a mixture of of the correct level of thickness, the heat of the oil, and timing. It takes practice, and despite my childhood aversion, deflated pooris are perfectly edible too.

The poori needs to fry for just 8-10 seconds after being flipped. When you remove them from the pan, you will notice that they will be darker on the bottom side, and this is normal. Place on a sheet to drain excess oil. Serve immediately with a generous helping of kheer, fresh from the fridge.

Hot, fluffy pooris are such wonderful comfort food. And when their heat melds with the chilled kheer, the combination is simply divine. The craving-busting deliciousness of fried dough and the sweetness of a Gujarati dessert – no wonder these were birthday treats when I was growing up! I hope you’ll enjoy this simple yet sinfully indulgent recipe. As always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

As I may have said a few times before: I’m very, very fond of yoghurt! Ever since childhood, it’s been an absolute requirement for me that every meal must contain yoghurt in some form. As I most often consume traditional Indian (particularly my native Gujarati) cuisines, this doesn’t require me to stretch my imagination or change my palate in any way. You may also recall that my yoghurt is homemade. It is made from a small amount of curd culture saved from the previous pot-full, allowed to set overnight, and consumed delicious and fresh every day.

I find that yoghurt enhances and adds flavour, and depending on how it is made can also add textures and tastes that go beyond what you imagine curd can do. Because it is such a staple in Indian homes, you will find that there are unique systems of making it that depend entirely on the people there. Even a religious view plays a role. For example, my mom’s home is Vaishnav and my in-laws are Jain. So the latter use onions and garlic very sparingly, whereas these were not restricted while I was growing up. The recipes I learnt in both homes were different. So although yoghurt is a vital part of the diet in both my homes, this particular dish is something I learnt after getting married.

From various previous posts, you would know about the Gujarati thaali, the set meal that contains a little bit of every flavour and texture. So you’d be familiar with raita, the thin yoghurt condiment that adds a bit of coolness of the meal, and helps with digestion. Raita is eaten throughout the subcontinent, in dozens of variants. For instance, an onion or kara boondi raita goes perfectly paired with a biryani, adding crunch as well. I have fond memories of long, lazy Sunday lunches during which I’d reach for more helpings of my mother-in-law’s banana-mustard-cucumber raita. I’m delighted to share the recipe for this simple but complexly flavoured dip today.

Banana, as you may remember from this banana-methi fritters recipe is a powerhouse of a fruit, packed with nutrients. It’s also a natural sweetener, and you know how Gujaratis love our sweets. In every kind of dish, you’ll find either jaggery or banana, or both! The sweetness of the banana in this raita naturally offsets the bitterness of the cucumber, which is another powerhouse. Cucumbers have a high water content, aiding rehydration, and are rich in potassium, magnesium and fibre. Adding a touch is spice is the mustard, which is a great source of selenium, zinc and calcium and known for its anti-inflammatory properties. Let me let you in on a secret – I never use the grinder to grind mustard as I don’t like the taste. Instead, I use the rolling pin that we use for rotlis. It’s lovely how such simple and clever innovations happen in the kitchen. I love picking up such techniques.

The flavours and textures of the three, as different as they are, blend very well in the yoghurt base: the banana soft and sweet, the mustard sharp, and the cucumber crunchy.

 

Banana-Mustard-Cucumber Raita

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

 

Ingredients

Raita:

2 cups plain yoghurt

1 cup finely cut banana

½ cup cut cucumber

1 tablespoon finely cut coriander leaves

1 ½ teaspoons mustard seeds

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

Salt to taste

 

Seasoning:

½ teaspoon sunflower oil

¼ teaspoon whole mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

 

Take the mustard seeds and crush them using any simple method that you use at home. As I said above, I use a rolling pin and board, the same as I use to make rotlis. This crushes the seeds just the way I like it – not too fine, but uneven and broken. You can use the hand pounder too, if you prefer. Crush and set aside.

Place the yoghurt in a bowl and beat well until there are no lumps and the yoghurt is smooth. Now add the salt, cumin powder and crushed mustard powder. The fresh flavour is the key element to this raita.

Now, add the banana, cucumber and coriander leaves. Mix well.

Then, prepare the seasoning. Pour the oil into a small pan. Once hot, add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds. Wait till the seeds splutter, then pour over the raita. Decorate by sprinkling some chili powder for colour, along with some roasted cumin powder and some finely cut coriander leaves.

As I said earlier, there are numerous other kinds of raita, enjoyed all over India. And while I’m nostalgic for my mother-in-law’s Sunday lunch raita, this banana-mustard-cucumber combination I’ve shared above, the current favourite in my home is in fact the sweet and crunchy pomegranate raita. Do you have a variant that you make often? I’d love to know what you think of mine in the comments.

 

When I was growing up, Diwali was a time when my mother made an entire array of sweets and savouries, such that I cannot point out one as a single most important tradition. All that changed for me when I got married and moved into my new home, when I became introduced to what is now a 30 year tradition for me: the simple and sacred dish of laapsi.

Laapsi is a Gujarati sweet which, like sukhudi uses just three ingredients: jaggery, broken wheat and ghee. In modern versions, people often add nuts, saffron and other flavourings, but the original and deep-rooted traditional method is extremely simple. The three basic ingredients were and are frugal, humble and delicious. In the old days, every household could reliably find enough to make a festive offering. As with sukhdi, laapsi is also first offered as prasad to the gods.

Diwali always falls on amavasai day, or the new moon. Different communities observe their own sets of festivities. For Gujaratis, it begins with Baras (the 12th day towards the waning moon), then Dhanteras (the 13th day, during which we pray to the goddess of prosperity, Lakshmi), then Kali Chaudas (when the goddess Kali is worshipped, not only with a sweet, but with a fried vadai which is symbolically thrown over the shoulder at a crossroads, indicating that you wish to leave behind the previous year) – and then, we have Diwali, which is also Chopda Puja. Chopda means “books”, and this is the day on which we perform a prayer similar to Ayudha Puja in other communities, when all our instruments (from accounting books to cameras and ladles) are kept at the altar and blessed. The day after Diwali is the Gujarati New Year.

I lost my father-in-law earlier this year, and since Indian homes traditionally will not celebrate festivals for a year after a loss, we won’t be going the whole way this year. However, my father-in-law was full of life and spirit and did not believe in observing that grieving period. He believed the life cycle should continue. So while we won’t over-celebrate this year, I will also ensure that we won’t put a full stop to joy. I am sure that is how he would have wanted it too. We had a cool, chilled out relationship. We had many fights and arguments, but I always knew that everything would be taken in the right spirit. And he was someone who was a huge influence on me, in everything from changing my perspectives to gifting me my first camera.

I will certainly miss him this Diwali. Every Diwali, he would give everyone a special token, a crisp 50 rupee note. All of us considered it a lucky charm, and kept it in our wallets until the following year. Who will do it this year? Many recent incidents have reminded me how important roots and traditions are, and how necessary it is to respect them. This is why there are so many things that I insist on doing in a ritualistic way, like keeping the umbrella on Ganesh Chaturthi, and making laapsi on Diwali. I know my kids will not follow all the things that I follow, but at least a few of those traditions will become meaningful to them too…

And if I can be hopeful, I would absolutely name laapsi as one of the traditions I hope my children will keep and cherish. Although we have all became health conscious and started rejecting sweets, I still insist that everyone partakes of our Diwali laapsi.

This year, my mother-in-law has moved back in with us, and it is nice to have her home. It reminds me of all the times that she shared her culinary wisdom with me (such as when she taught me this kachori that many of you enjoyed too). Diwali is just a few days away, and I am calling to mind how I used to watch her make laapsi during the first ten or twelve years of my marriage. Slowly, she stopped coming into the kitchen as often and I began to manage more of the cooking. But for a long time, I would still ask her to come in for certain traditional dishes. Laapsi was, of course, one of them. Different families follow different methods in order to make their own traditions. I follow hers to a T: no garnish, no frills, just three simple ingredients made for God and family.

And just like my mother-in-law taught me, I will not serve laapsi on any day other than Diwali. I consider it sacred. My family and I wish you a very happy Diwali and festive season, and I hope that this special dish brings you sweetness and joy too.

Laapsi

(Yield: 2-3 cups)

Ingredients

½ cup broken wheat
½ cup jaggery
2 ¼ cups water
3 teaspoons ghee

Boil the water in a pot and add the jaggery to it. Stir until the jaggery melts. Then strain the liquid through a strainer, making sure that it is clean. Measure the liquid to check that you now have 2 cups of jaggery water.

Toast the wheat and ghee till slightly golden. This will take approximately 3 minutes. Now add the liquid to the wheat and cover with a lid. Place this in a pressure cooker for 4-5 whistles. Once you open the pressure cooker, you will find that the concoction is still soft. You can now place the pot directly on to a low flame. Cover and let cook until the liquid dries up and its grainy.

I prefer using the cooker as it lessens the cooking time. Alternately, pour the hot jaggery water into the wheat in the pan and allow to cook covered, on a low flame, so it does not stick to the bottom. Let it be on the stove until the grains are cooked perfectly and soft to the bite. Do not stir frequently as this may cause the grains to get sticky.

As I mentioned earlier, there are different ways to make this. I do hope you will find yours once you make this often enough. You don’t have to restrict yourself to an annual occasion like I do!

Typically, we serve the hot lapsi with ghee, powdered sugar and lentils.

Given the deep Gujarati-ness of this recipe and this post, I hope you’ll also take a look at some of my previous recipes that celebrate my traditional cuisine.

 

When a very dear friend invited us to Portugal to attend a wedding, I was thrilled to learn that the incredible hosts of the young bride had proud family connections to the landscape of olive trees. On the very first evening of the celebration, a meet-and-greet was held at an olive orchard. As the long summer day grew to dusk and sunset fell over the grove criss-crossed by fairy lights, we dipped wonderful country bread into olive oil and feasted. That was my first experience of the importance of olive oil in Portugal. I was determined to learn more about it, and I got my chance when we returned to Lisbon and I encountered a lovely little store named Oli-Stori.

Do you remember my adventure in Italian coffee some time ago? In the same way that a little curiosity had sparked a beautiful long conversation, this European trip too gave me memories and knowledge to cherish. This was our second trip to Portugal, and we had been keen to do offbeat things and make a holiday of it after the wedding. Tourist guides and books mentioned only a little about olive oil, but I wanted to learn more. Back in Lisbon, it was a hotel concierge who told us about OliStori. We had an itinerary for the day ahead, but I insisted that we begin at that store. “I just want to pop in quickly and pick up a bottle,” I said. That’s exactly what would have happened if the co-owner, Isabelle Carreira, hadn’t been so sweet and gracious. We wound up spending almost the entire day in her lovely space.

As we walked up to the store, we saw that the door was only partially open. “Can we come in?” we enquired. Isabelle wasn’t ready for customers yet, but she asked us to sit down and be comfortable. She just wanted to head to the nearby bakery to buy some bread so we could enjoy a tasting. I was really taken by this – imagine leaving your entire store open to a couple of strangers! Charmed, I got excited and decided on the spot that I had to feature her on my blog.

Isabelle was born in France to Portuguese parents, and opened Oli-Stori together with her Portuguese-speaking French partner Thierry after 30 years in the restaurant business, when they realised that Lisbon did not have any shop that was specifically for olive oil. Theirs is a treasure trove of different varieties and brands sourced from all over the country. Portugal is not as famous for olive oil as Italy because they do not focus on the export market at all. However, the quality of their produce is just as spectacular.

OliStori is a smallish but beautifully done up space. I looked around cheerfully as we waited for her to open the store. The décor touches, I later learnt, tried to replicate elements from different farms that the oils are sourced from. There were horses and sheep, or a little doll, in every corner. These added to the warmth of the ambience. I took some impromptu photos as I looked around.

 

When Isabel returned with the bread, what began was part tasting, part storytelling and part educational session. She was so generous with her knowledge, and eager to share with us her wide experience.

Portugal is a small country, but has a diverse landscape, with different regions producing varying kinds of olive oil. Every oil sold in Isabelle and Thierry’s shop was sourced through their travels around the country, visiting olive farms, understanding the process of growing and what effects the weather conditions and soil types have on the produce. As she spoke, she had us sample a diverse range – it was almost like a wine tasting. And it’s true, the flavours differ!

Olive trees take 3-5 years of growth to be ready for the first harvest, and have a lifespan of up to 200 years. The fruits are sensitive to the soil and to climactic conditions. The Trás-os-Montes province in the North is especially famous. This province’s name means “behind the mountains”, and the olive trees here grow on terraced land. It is cold in winter, and hot in summer. The soil here is rich, and there doesn’t need to be much watering. These conditions are very interesting for the tree, and the olive oil here is intense and green, and has a fresh fragrance. It smells a little like tomatoes, in fact!

An olive oil I particularly enjoyed was from the brand Terras Dazibo, from the region Tras-o-Montes. It had a long flavour, starting sweet, then turning bitter behind the tongue and spicy as it goes down the throat. This extra virgin olive oil is created by a blend of different olives.

In Noura in the South, the trees are spaced far apart on the farm so that the roots can be more widespread. They don’t require much water, and produce black olives with a complex and light flavour. These black olives don’t grow in the north, where it is too cold. All kinds of geographic elements have an impact on the agriculture. In the Rio Maior region, for instance, the olives are saltier due to the river water that irrigates the crops. Verdeal olive oil is green and fresh, Cobrançosa is fruity and spicy, Picual is piquant (as per its name!), Madura is smooth,  These are but a few examples. We were spoilt for choice at OliStori!

The Portuguese government, despite having no interest in the export market, takes this produce seriously and offers a certification known as DOP (Denominação de Origem Protegida) to mark the best quality olive oils. Despite not having DOP certification, the regions of Duoro and Algarve also produce excellent ones. Duoro is better known for its porto wine, whereas Algarve is believed to focus more on about their production than on seeking certification.

If you’ve ever wondered what the differences are between virgin olive oil, extra virgin olive oil and cold-pressed olive oil… I finally learned them in Portugal, thanks to Isabelle. Extra virgin olive oil is from the very first fruit that is sent to the press, and has the lowest acidity (0%-0.8%). Virgin olive oil is pressed later, and cold-pressed olive oil is treated at a temperature under 25°C and is best for flavour fusions and guarantees the preservation of aromas. The brand Olival de Risca from the Alentejo region in the South is known for these. The additional fruit or vegetable is cut and added alongside the olives during the cold-pressing procedure. Some of these fusions include classic Mediterranean herbs, mandarin, garlic, basil, lemon and chili. Alentejo is very hot, which makes it suitable for black olives, which give oils with a complex and light taste. The trees here are spaced far apart, so the roots can be more extensive, and dry farming is the usual method so as to produce more concentrated oils.

Despite spending hours at OliStori, there was no way in which to taste every single kind of olive oil they had to offer. But I loved learning a little bit about several, and the packaging often told a story by itself. For instance, the Angelica brand features a picture of the current owner’s grandmother when she was young. I carefully selected a small number of beautiful bottles to bring back home. These can be stored for up to 20 months, provided the bottle is kept closed (I plan to refrigerate, thanks to my climate). Open bottles create oxidization, which breaks down the flavour and affects the quality of the oil.

As you probably know, olive oil is quite versatile and can be used to top fish, light foods like salads and as a dip for bread. I used some of my Portuguese stock recently in this South Indian fusion hummus recipe.

Bitter tastes, very spicy tastes, complex long tastes, short and sharp tastes, fruity tastes, herbal tastes – for the first time, I understood olive oil to be as varied as wine. There were just so many to try. I’m so grateful to Isabelle for her generosity with her knowledge, time and stock of olive oils. And those hours spent in the charming OliStori are among my loveliest recent memories of Europe. If you’re ever in Lisbon, be sure to take a little walk up a slope on the cobbled street of Rua de Madelena and send Isabel my love. Oh, and OliStori also sells balsamic vinegars – but that would need another day, another trip and another post!

With the festival of Navaratri coming up, when chickpeas are served to guests in many homes in a simple dish called sundal, I had the humble legume on my mind once again. Only this time, I felt inspired to pair it with another ingredient that’s an essential in every South Indian home: the curry leaf. With the occasional rains we are enjoying in Chennai at the moment, my curry leaf bush has been in full bloom. And when I have so much in my garden or farm, you know that it usually tends to go straight into my kitchen. I took these two local ingredients and put them together in a fusion dish: curry leaf and green chilli hummus.

Hummus is a Middle Eastern dish that is a part of daily cuisines in that part of the world, and is usually eaten with breads. It’s also popular everywhere as a party snack, a perfect dip for everything from sliced vegetables to skewered meat. I’ve tasted a lot of beetroot hummus, so I knew that the basic puree lends itself well to flavourings. That’s when my curry leaves caught my eye.

Also known as “sweet neem”, curry leaf is an ingredient that we almost take for granted in our Indian kitchens. Tempered or fresh sprigs are thrown into curries, the powder is eaten with rice, and so on. It adds flavour to so many dishes that it’s just a ubiquitous part of our cooking. With a range of health benefits, including antioxidant and anti-diabetic properties, it’s no wonder that our ancestors incorporated it into as many meals as they could.  Now that I grow curry leaves in my own home, I have been learning a little about the plant too. Did you know that the tiny berries, which are not used in cooking, are actually high in Vitamin C – but that their seeds are poisonous?

Long ago, my hummus attempts would be so mediocre that a good friend would send me tubs as I so enjoyed the dish. Over time, I learned how to make it and stopped depending on those shipments, just as I stopped depending on store-bought cakes and even began to experiement with homegrown ingredients. Trial and error is the key to learning, and by studying different recipes and adding my own touches, I finally arrived on a version I loved.

The main ingredient in hummus is the humble chickpea, which is a staple not only in the Middle East but all over India in its many forms. It’s eaten boiled for a healthy snack, powdered and roasted and used as a binder, and known by so many names – puttukadalai, chana dal, kabuli (did this come to us by way of Kabul, I wonder?), chole and so on. Abroad, you may know this legume as garbanzo beans. The darker variants have a higher iron content, while the chana dal I use for thus hummus is rich in protein and fibre, thus filling you quickly and also aiding weight loss. It is known to lower cholesterol and diabetic risk, and also has high zinc and folate content.

The traditional hummus has a bland, though satisfying, taste. I thought of how I could kick it up a notch. That’s when I decided to add the equally ubiquitous green chilli, which is rich in Vitamin C, great for digestion – and very piquant!

Tahini, which is made of ground white sesame, and olive oil round out the Middle Eastern flavours. Fortunately, these are widely available at good supermarkets in India and other countries. I used some wonderful olive oil I picked up in Portugal recently, which will be featuring in my blog soon.

The day after I made this curry leaf and green chilli hummus at home, I went to Goa and to my delight, my good friend the designer Wendell Rodricks served the very same dish in his home! I squealed! The coincidence was just too thrilling, and I wanted to share my recipe immediately, so you too can serve it soon.

Curry Leaf & Green Chilli Hummus

(Yield: 1 bowl)

 

Ingredients

1¼ cups cooked/boiled chickpeas

3-4 garlic cloves

1 tablespoon tahini

2 tablespoons lemon juice

½ teaspoon salt

¼ cup olive oil

1 cup washed curry leaves

1 green chilli

Water

 

In a blender, add the curry leaves and green chilli with 2 tablespoons of water. Blend until you get a smooth paste. Keep aside.

Next, blend the soft cooked chickpeas along with garlic, tahini, salt, half the olive oil and lemon juice.  Blend well until the paste is smooth and looks creamy.

Now, add the blended curry leaf paste to the creamy chickpeas and whir once again until it all mixes well. Adjust the salt and lemon quantities to suit your taste.

If you feel it needs to be creamier, add more water or olive oil to the blend, until it achieves a dip-like consistency.

The curry leaf hummus is now ready to serve. You can have it the traditional way, with flatbreads, whether that’s the Middle Eastern pita or the North Indian naan. Or some healthy quinoa chips, for a wholesome snack. Crunchy vegetables like carrot or celery sticks, toasties, or rice crisps (to keep that South Indian sensibility) are also excellent accompaniments. With a mildly yet surprisingly flavourful curry leaf hummus like this – it’s the dip that’s the main dish, not the accompaniment!

And if you just can’t get enough of that flavour, why not try my curry leaf and raw mango cooler as well?

I enjoy the creative challenges of coming up with innovative dishes, and salads are a category I worked on happily during the earlier stages of re:store’s journey. Before turning my focus more intently towards baking and photography, I used to take orders for salads. The orders generally came from people who were fitness-focused or preferred to eat smaller meals at work. But that was no reason to eat the same thing every day. So I planned menus of 10-15 salads, rotating them every 3 months.

The salads were inspired by so many cuisines, and people I met, and using a schedule was also something new for me. Before going into business, I’d usually just throw whatever was on hand into a salad. Another thing I learnt was that keeping veggies fresh in India was not easy when they weren’t consumed immediately. Especially when the salad travelled from the re:store kitchen to another’s home, and then commuted with them to their office. So if I put in a fancy leafy vegetable, by the time the customer opened the container at their desk at lunchtime, it would have started to look and taste different. Through trial and error, I figured out ways to use only local and seasonal produce in my salad experiments.

Another thing I don’t believe in is using store-bought dressings, so I made them all from scratch, matching each one to the ingredients used. Naturally, I am also very particular about the hygienic handling of raw vegetables, so I always prepared salads only on the day of delivery.

We often think of salads as a part of Western cuisine, but they are often found in Indian cuisines as well. Whether it’s a home-cooked Gujarati meal or a South Indian one, some kind of raw, cut veggies will be served. While a vegetable smoothie may be a great way to substitute an unhealthy beverage, there are benefits to salads that go beyond taste. God made vegetables crunchy because they are meant to be eaten that way – it all begins by using the teeth and jaw muscles!

The Gujarati word for salad is “kachumber”, and while my recipe contains very diverse ingredients, at its core you could consider it an update on the traditional one. You know how much I love millets, and this salad uses foxtail millet as a base, for substance as much as for its many superfood properties. All the ingredients are available locally and inexpensively. I sometimes use sunflower seeds instead of pumpkin, but the latter are more authentically Macrobiotic here. Even the green peas come from Ooty, not so far away from me at all.

I’d love to share with you some nostalgia about salads and childhood, but let me be honest. Like many people, I often refused to eat vegetables growing up – but now look me, advocating for them!

 

Indian Veg Millet Salad

(Yield: 1 bowl)

Ingredients

Salad

120 grams cooked foxtail millet

½ cup steamed green peas

1 tablespoon pumpkin seeds

1 tablespoon finely chopped shallots

¼ cup cucumber

¼ cup finely cut raw mango

A handful of pomegranate arils

A few sprigs of fresh methi (fenugreek) leaves

 

Dressing

2 tablespoons sweet lime juice

1½ tablespoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon honey

1 tablespoon olive oil

A pinch of pepper

Salt to taste

Place all the fresh ingredients in a beautiful bowl. I have mentioned the quantity of the vegetables – however, you can eyeball the amount and decide for yourself how much you want to use. And of course, innovate. Add or delete ingredients depending on your fridge stock. You could even use any other millet if that suits you.

In a small jar, add all the ingredients for the dressing. Shake vigorously. Pour on the salad before serving and mix together till the dressing coats all the vegetables.

That’s all there is to it. A citrusy, profoundly simple dressing lifts the flavours of an unusual but deeply Indian salad. You have the sweetness of pomegranate, the tartiness of raw mango, the crunchiness of seeds and more. A medley of textures. Just mix it all up! I hope you’ll enjoy this easy recipe from the “salad days” of re:store, excuse the pun!

This is something I’ve never done before – sharing the recipe for a dish I’ve recently added to the re:store menu – but this cake is so divine that I can’t help but want to shout about it from the rooftops! Despite my interest in healthy eating, I’ve never really been one for vegetable-based cakes. But this carrot-ginger cake is simply outstanding. From the moment I took my first attempt out of the oven, I was stunned. And every slice since has simply vanished in a matter of hours in my home, and from the re:store kitchen. And for all the love you, my well-wishers and friends, have shown me, this recipe is just a small gesture of gratitude.

I am always on a quest for perfection, and to me there are four types of cakes that every baker should master: chocolate, vanilla, vegan and carrot. These are the basics, and over the years I have strived to do better and better with each kind. Flavour-wise, there are many ways to innovate on these basics and tweak them to suit your palate. My friends Michael and Sujata’s cook once shared a carrot cake recipe which used pineapple and coconut, for instance. That was what I used to bake until I found my own way of literally spicing it up. When I melded the zesty taste of ginger into what I’d use to think of as the somewhat boring carrot cake, I knew I had hit gold.

Ginger is the rhizome of a flowering plant by the same name, and is widely used in Indian cuisine for its fragrance, spiciness and health benefits. It was one of the first spices that Europeans imported, so world cuisines have also used it for centuries. It is great for treating nausea and appetite loss, has anti-inflammatory properties, and is believed to lower blood sugar and to help reduce the risk of heart disease.  For this cake, I used stem ginger soaked in sugar syrup as well as freshly grated ginger.

Carrot, like ginger, is also an edible root – and it is an extremely popular vegetable in Western cuisine. In India, it is added to salads, stir-fries (known as poriyal in Tamil) and even a milk dessert called gajar ki halwa. It also has a range of health benefits, including better eyesight and lowered cholesterol, and is a source of potassium, antioxidants, vitamins and fibre.

Two nourishing ingredients – and one delicious dessert. This cake is so appetizing that icing is completely optional! Also, it is lactose-free, which means that those of you with dairy allergies can indulge without stress!

Irresistible Carrot-Ginger Cake

Ingredients
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup plain flour
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
⅔ cup vegetable oil
1 ½ cups grated carrots
½ cup sweet ginger in syrup (substitute: ½ teaspoon dry ginger powder)
½ cup chopped walnuts
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger

Grease an 8’ inch square pan and line with butter paper. Dust with flour.

Sift the flour along with the soda, baking powder and salt – as well as the ginger powder if you’ve opted to use it. Set aside.

Combine the eggs, oil, sugar and flour until well-mixed. Now add the carrots, fresh ginger and walnuts to the mixture.

Pour this batter into the prepared tin. Bake for about 45 minutes to an hour, until the tooth pick comes out clean.

Once baked, allow to cool. Turn onto a wire rack.

As I said earlier, icing is completely optional. But if you’d like the extra sweetness, or just the visual effect, decorate with the cream cheese frosting that is traditionally paired with carrot cakes. It has a slight tang to it, and lifts the flavours nicely.

Serve – and prepare to watch the slices simply vanish from their plates. This carrot-ginger cake is irresistible. Don’t take my word for it. Try it out yourself, or if you’re in Chennai, buzz me and put in your order!

At 8am every morning, I make a beeline from my trainer to my kitchen, open the fridge and devour a big bowl of my 3+1 overnight oats. This post-workout, protein-rich pudding replenishes my body and keeps me from taking a bite out of anything that gets in my way, including the Dark Prince’s head! Fortunately for him and for me both, this wonderful pudding is always waiting for me in the morning. Chilled, nutritious and oh so filling. My starvation ebbs away. And I am prepared for my day.

I’ve been exercising ever since my firstborn, and I am obsessed with staying fit and healthy both emotionally and physically. Over the years, I have developed a clockwork diligence with regards to my fitness regime. I supplement this by eating good, home-cooked food, as you know from this blog. I find that a strict diet is not necessary, as long as you eat fresh food, made cleanly and with nutritious ingredients.

I also listen to my body. For instance, when I feel lazy or lethargic, I know I have overeaten. All of us have this capacity. We just have to stay aware, especially as we get older, and listen to what our bodies tell us about how they feel, what they need, and how to address it. Some of this is also a part of my Macrobiotics training, and there are easy ways to incorporate some of those methods into daily life.

Whether you have an intense exercise regime or not, what you have for breakfast has a huge effect on your productivity for the rest of the day. This brings us back to the power pudding that I eat every day. Replenishing protein is my key need, as a gym enthusiast, and I always look for innovative and creative ways to bring more of it into my diet. I hit the jackpot with this delicious – and indeed, decadent! – 3+1 overnight oats.

This pudding is built on just three basic ingredients, which need to be refrigerated overnight. All you need are oats, milk and chia seeds. These are the key elements. Beyond this, you tweak the recipe based on your own tastes, seasonal availability and so on. You can use any type of milk you choose, be it vegan almond or soy milk, skimmed milk, slim milk, coconut milk or good old regular milk.

The +1 for me is usually a fruit. I reach for dates, bananas and berries through the year, and when I have them on hand, any lovely summer fruit. As you can imagine, based on the proliferation of mango recipes on this blog every summer, they were a frequent recent addition to my morning pudding this year. Every fruit has its own range of benefits, as well as sweetening or adding texture to the pudding. You could also add honey or maple syrup if you want to sweeten it. And for an extra boost, mix in protein powder, spirulina powder or açaí powder.

Whatever you choose to add to the base of three ingredients, it becomes a full and wholesome breakfast. With carbs, protein, fruit sugars and the additional goodness of an extra handful of nuts or other ingredient of your preference, a serving of this pudding is perfect to get you through the entire morning. And it’s so creamy and tasty that it’s like having dessert for breakfast!

3+1 Overnight Oats

(Yield: 2 cups)

Ingredients

3 tablespoons oats

1½ teaspoons chia seeds

1 cup milk of your choice

½ cup fruit of your choice

It’s very important that you make this pudding the night before you plan to consume it, as it needs time to set. Simply blend all the ingredients and pour into 2 cups. Garnish with nuts, if desired, and refrigerate. Don’t forget to add the protein, açaí, spirulina or other healthy powder if you wish to.

Enjoy it the following morning, right after your workout or before your busy day starts. If you have a very sweet tooth, like I do, you may add 1 teaspoon of honey or maple syrup before you eat it.

This 3+1 overnight oats pudding is one of the healthiest breakfasts you can have, regardless of how demanding your schedule is. It is also, hands-down, one of the tastiest. Give it a try as a replacement for your current breakfast dish, and tell me how it works for you!

When my daughter was in school, I would send her off every day with a lunchbox that contained as much variety as possible. Whether it was noodles, pizza or something else, I always made her something delicious – but with a healthy twist. Her best friend, a girl from Andhra Pradesh, brought her mother’s spinach rice in her own lunchbox every day. And the girls would exchange lunchboxes. My daughter loved that traditional spinach rice, and her best friend couldn’t get enough of my cooking experiments! When I discovered what was going on, I simply started packing extra of whatever I sent her, so both girls could eat more of our homemade meals.

Recently, this friend visited us, and the girls sat with me and reminisced about the good old days of their childhoods. Soon, they got to talking about the lunchbox swaps, and my daughter was nostalgic, saying how much she missed that spinach rice. As it is made of affordable and readily available ingredients, some variation of spinach rice is a staple in households all over the country. “Spinach” is an entire category of leafy greens. In South India, there are so many kinds available that certain dishes are matched according to the tastes of each. For instance, in Tamil Nadu, the thick small leaves of paruppu keerai (literally “dhal spinach”) go with dhal, the smaller leaves of siri keerai (“little spinach”) taste good with garlic, and are usually stir-fried with the same, and so on. What is known as dill rice in the West is also a kind of spinach rice here.

Spinach, as the cartoon character Popeye popularised, is great for developing a strong and healthy body. It is a muscle-builder, and packed with vitamins, calcium, antioxidants and other nourishing elements. It’s also collagen-rich, which means your skin and hair benefit from it. It is typically the kind of leafy green that kids resist eating, as some kinds are bitter, which is why I was so happy to find out about my daughter’s lunchbox exchanges long ago!

In my previous post, I mentioned a nifty slicer I picked up on my travels, and while these modern conveniences are much enjoyed, I still trust and hold on to our time-honoured appliances. For instance, I have the traditional Tamil aruvamanai, a hooked grater meant to be used while seated on the floor. The lovely thing about such devices is that they are durable in a way that modern devices, especially plastic ones, just aren’t. While this is mostly part of the décor, I’m not averse to using it when I want to. What better way to recreate a nostalgic dish than by using an antique appliance? I pulled out the old aruvamanai and sliced the spinach leaves for this recipe with it…

 

Spinach Rice

(Yield: 4-5 cups)

Ingredients
1 tomato
1 onion
2 cups spinach leaves
¾ cups raw rice
2 tablespoon mung dal
1 tooth garlic
1 green chilli
¼ teaspoon turmeric
¼ teaspoon cumin seeds
¼ teaspoon mustard seeds
1 tablespoon oil
Salt to taste

In a pressure cooker, add the spinach leaves, mung dal, onion, tomato, turmeric, chili, garlic, salt and 3 cups of water. Allow to cook for 2 whistles. In case you do not want to use a pressure cooker, you may cook the same ingredients covered with a lid on a medium flame, until well-cooked and soft to the touch.

Meanwhile, wash and soak the rice in water.

In a pan, add oil, then the cumin seeds and mustard seeds. Once they splutter, add the washed raw rice.

Now, open the cooled pressure cooker. Add the washed and soaked rice to the spinach and allow them all to cook for two more whistles. The spinach rice is now ready.

Serve hot – or in a lunchbox, for your growing children, who may surprise you with their tastes!

The Telugu cuisine of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana is known for being spicy, and the spinach rice recipe above, generously shared by my daughter’s friend’s mother, is no different. My daughter says that it tastes just like she remembered it from school. It’s in the original style, of course, but I must take credit for the most special ingredient – her mother’s love!

 

For someone who grew up disliking bananas, I’ve simply not been able to get enough of them this month! I hope you enjoyed my previous recipe for banana bread. There’s been a windfall of plantains on my farm, and so the fruit has found its way into several more dishes I’ve made lately. The recipe I’m sharing today adds a bit of crispiness to my traditional lunch thaalis. It’s so easy to make, and so difficult to resist. I really have gone bananas for these banana chips!

These chips don’t use the ripe bananas that we peel and eat when in need of a portable snack. Instead, they use unripe green plantains of the Monthan variety, which fruit in the 8th or 9th month after planting. They are not sweet, unlike ripe ones, but are edible both raw and cooked. Rich in potassium, iron and several vitamins, they are used in cuisines in Polynesia, Jamaica, and here in India of course. The banana tree itself is considered sacred in Hinduism, and is worshipped in some sects and used in wedding ceremonies. Not only the fruit but the flower too can be consumed, and food is traditionally eaten on a banana leaf itself.

I have a new gadget in my kitchen that I picked up on one of my travels – a nifty slicer that lets me quickly slice the banana directly over hot oil, so I was quite excited to use it when my sister taught me how easy these chips are to make.

Banana chips are made all over India, but they differ from state to state. The famous Kerala ones, for instance, are cut thicker and are bright yellow. These Gujarati-style ones are thin and reddish-coloured because of the spices used. They are called “kudkudiyas” – a bit of onomatopoeia, because of the “kud kud” crunch sound. They remind me of all my visits to Ahmedabad, and in fact my husband (aka The Dark Prince!) is so partial to them that I order them for him all the way from that city. Fortunately, everyone at home loves my banana chips too, so they can now have them fresh and not imported!

Gujarati-Style Banana Chips

(Yield: Approximately 1 bowl)

Ingredients

1 large raw plantain

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon chili powder (or to taste)

¼ teaspoon powdered sugar

2 cups oil (for deep frying)

Heat the oil in a frying pan. Peel the plantain and wash it. Be watchful as it may be a bit sticky to the touch.

Slice the plantain and immediately drop the slices into the hot oil. If you use a gadget like I do, you can slice them directly over the pan.

Now reduce the flame to medium. Turn the slices around a few times until they turn golden.

Remove them from the oil, placing them onto an absorbent paper. Immediately sprinkle the salt, chili powder and sugar. Make them your way by adding spices of your choice, such as pepper or chaat masala. The trick is to add the spices as soon as they’re off the oil because this is the only way the spices will stick to the chips. Also remember that the thinner the slice, the crispier and tastier they’ll be. Store in an air tight jar. Enjoy the crunch!

 

This exact same recipe can also be used for sweet potato chips, if you prefer them to green bananas or find them more readily available.

I prefer using these homemade banana chips instead of any store-bought snack to add crispiness to our lunch thaalis at home. They are cleaner and healthier, and I know exactly what’s going into our mouths, so I don’t mind that they are deep fried.

Even though these banana chips are made in a popular and easy style, you will surely agree that every dish tastes different depending on the cook. Each home and each hand has its own flavour, despite the recipe being exactly the same. Even something as simple as banana chips will have a unique taste. When you try this recipe, be sure to let me know how yours tastes!